you think
you are exempt
from being blamed
for the pain your words caused
because you think
the words that came out of your mouth
are drifting,
dissolving,
in the air
forever lost
to the elements

they're not

I try so hard for you to notice me,
Stand out beyond this crowd.
But I always seem to fade into the background.

I try, I try, and try again.
But I mean nothing,
Just a face that passes by,
Never to get recognized.

If I leave you won't see,
It's like I never existed.
Am I even real?

"She never looked nice. She looked like art, && art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something."



Do I make you feel something?

That poem you wrote about me,
is my favorite of your works.
How could it not be?
That's the most wonderful thing
anyone's ever done for me.
To care enough to be inspired, by me.
To care at all.
But when you asked me,
I lied && said I liked another one better.
I didn't want you to think I was being arrogant.      
I care what you think.
When you told me that your favorite
movie trilogy was The Lord of the Rings,
I told you that I'd never seen any of the films.
What you don't know,
is that later that day
I went out && rented all three films.
I stayed up that entire night
watching them straight through.
I thought it would help me
to understand you better.
I thought it would make me feel closer to you.
I'm not sure if it did that,
but I enjoyed the films nonetheless.
I've always had a problem
conveying my emotions to people.
I convey all sorts of emotions,
just never the right ones at the right times.
Somehow it always felt like I'd be too vulnerable, showing people how I really feel.
For as long as I can remember,
I've always acted the exact opposite
of how I really felt. It felt safer.
I guess I always thought that if I showed another emotion, other than how I really felt, when I was ostracized, criticized, put down, for such displays of emotion, I wouldn't be affected by it.
After all, that wasn't the real me anyway.
Boy, was I wrong.
I now have enemies who love me,
because I've only ever shown them
kindness, so they wouldn't know
how I really felt about them.
I then have people that I would go
to the ends of the earth for, that believe
I hold a strong disdain for them.
I'm not quite sure how to fix this conundrum I'm in, but you really make me want to figure it out.

You once said that in your lifetime
you wanted to witness unrequited love..

Remember last New Years Eve?

We had plans to go to my aunts house,
then last minute you decided that you didn't want to go. You decided that you wanted to throw a party, not at our apartment, but at your fathers house. I thought this was strange, but I agreed to ditch out on my family, for you. You left early to prepare for this party; told me to meet you there later, but when I showed up at your door, you turned me away. I was dumb founded. You told me that it just wasn't the kind of party that I'd be into. What does that even mean? I should specify though, you didn't actually answer the door && tell me to leave. You were never man enough for such a thing. You texted me. I was standing outside of your door, && you texted me && told me to leave. So I did. What was I supposed to do at that point, beg to be let into a place where I was clearly unwelcome? I walked back to my car, in my sequined party dress. I drove back to our apartment. We had one of those text fights we always had; the kind where I asked you why you had done something unkind to me, && you flipped it so that by the end of the conversation I was apologizing to you && begging for forgiveness. I sat there in the dark, in the apartment, for the remainder of the night. I cried myself to sleep.

Fast forward to this year. You have the audacity to contact me, asking if I miss you. What I miss is the person I was before I knew the likes of you.

Here's to a new year, untainted by your touch.

ground zero
i become aware of boundaries
i am a dog chasing cars
i sing your voicemail to sleep
there are no surgeon general warnings
to tell me that
the objects in the mirror
are more depressed than they appear
so how do i tell you
that there are parts of my life
that move slower
without you in them?
or that i look for you every day
in emails & unanswered calls
in the sunrises
i didn't choose to be awake to watch
that i sometimes still stare at doorways hoping you would walk through them
   *stage 1 you tell your new lover you've got a splinter and they pull the sound of your body falling asleep on mine out of your fingertip
   stage 2 your new lover says something at dinner that makes you choke so they call 911 & the paramedics do the hymleich not knowing you would ***** our promises all over the the restaurant
   stage 3 your new lover surprises you by cleaning the house & washes the shirt you kept next to the bed, not knowing it was the last thing you had that smelled like me
after
people always ask
what was loving her like?
after a really long silence
i just say
"it must be nice"
but i never say
it's watching paint dry
i never say
it's a window seat in hell
i don't tell anyone
about the dreams
where i am reading you
bedtime stories
each one is a different way you die
& every time i can never save you
dreams where what i think
are angels in my bedroom
are just homeless versions
of myself you never loved
i have dreams
where i pay someone to shoot me
just to see if you would cry
just to see
if you would cradle my body
i don't tell people
that loving you is like
playing piano
for someone who can't hear
that it's hitting repeat
on my favorite song
& forgetting the words
every time it starts over
that it's finding out
there's no milk after you already
poured yourself a bowl of cereal
it's getting locked in the dark
& being told to
look on the bright side
that loving you is like
being reminded of what it felt like
the first time
you accidentally let go
of a balloon as a child
it's drowning without the water
it's the feeling you get
when you start to dance
& the song ends

she was leaving
and got the gumption
to see me before she did
so we went to dinner
she sat, crumpled
at the edge of the booth
playing with her silverware
hands sweating
our knees barely touching
underneath the table
they shook like the day we met
they shook like floodgates
when the clouds get upset
her hair was drawn back
into an apology
and she didn't answer
when the waiter asked for drinks
she pans, tilts
looking for the restroom
but doesn't get up
covers her mouth
to hide her furled chin
i cut her a piece of bread
not sparingly
i didn't want to ruin the symbolism
of cutting a gangrenous thing
from ones self
she half wept out "tell me a joke"
i thought to say "look at us."
that's it. that's the joke.
the premise & the punch line
sharing some silence
here in this ominous moment
so thick with goodbye
you could touch it
i said "when they asked what the name was for the wait, i should've said "awkward, party of 2"
but that's not the joke
"knock knock"
she whispered "who's there?"
i sat for a moment and said
"so we've come full circle.. we're even in the same seats, from all those months ago"
her lips quivered
and she hid her mouth
"i just wanted to hear a joke"
she said
i came back with
*"if i fell for you in a quiet restaurant & no one was around to hear it, does the laughter of children i drempt we'd have make a sound?"

and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it

Perhaps if we are to meet again it will be in a different a life and a different body. Perhaps you'll look at me and smile, have a serious case of deja vu, and try again. A true example of second chances.